


Victory

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [42]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bad Puns, Competition, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ping-Pong, Puns & Word Play, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strip Games, Table tennis, Tennis, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom’s got a competitive streak and a healthy obsession with table tennis, his girlfriend Abigail and sex. He seizes the opportunity to enjoy all three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory

**Author's Note:**

> tennis puns - how many can you find?

“Baby, won’t you try it? For me?”

“You’re not playing fair already, Hiddleston,” I poked his chest, wiping the mock puppy dog from his ‘innocent’ blue eyes. Long arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his lean physique. Reality slipped away when his teeth found my earlobe, manipulating the skin, manipulating my resolve simultaneously. I moaned lowly, the vibrating sound awakening every pore to arousal. “Is this your initial serve?”

He bit down lightly on the flesh and blew a stream of hot breath against the abused part of my ear. “I never once confessed to playing fair, love.”

His palm filled with my bum and squeezed me to him, playing up the persuasion to sway my decision to his advantage. “You’re a wildcard, my beautiful man,” I said on a sigh of contentment, his teeth nipping my jaw softly. I felt the vibrations rather than heard that sexy laugh that rolled through the back of his throat, sending a shiver straight to my core. “But if you ask me, I think you’re treeing at seduction rather than convincing me to play with you.”

He chuckled again against the nape of my neck, his scorching breath igniting my need for him. “Either way, I win.”

“Is that your rally?”

“Are you the receiver?”

“Serve up, Hiddleston,” I backhanded at him, pushing him away.

Smiling wickedly, he winked sinfully at me while making his way around the other side of the table. My boyfriend, the charmer, told me that he had a gift for me in the spare bedroom of his flat. I’d rushed back to his after work at the promise of an unexpected surprise present, only to find a table tennis table that he’s been eyeing up the last time we were in Argos.

Before starting the match, I leaned over exposing my cleavage, “Remind me how this is a gift for me.”

“You’re the best girlfriend and you indulge me in my love of tennis.” His gaze disappeared down the point of the v that my breasts created, appreciating the view. “I presented you with another opportunity to go above and beyond the call of duty as my woman to make me happy. And you’ve picked up the lingo!”

I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, “You’ve dragged me to Wimbledon two years running… and the hours of watching matches on the telly. I think Andy Murray is flirting with me, something’s bound to sink in.”

He furrowed his brow and his expression turned serious. “Abby world?”

I nodded enthusiastically, threading my fingers through my hair. “He’s quite dashing actually.”

“Another one I have to compete with for your affections, Abby? The Hamster and now Andy Murray too?”

I tsked him, “You’re missing the point, babe.” I winked, illustrating my well placed pun. He giggled, being polite at my attempt at humor. “They’re in competition with you. You’ve got my love and affection, Tom. You’re my ace!” To distract him from another one of my Abby World boyfriends, I held my paddle at the ready and said, “Lob your ball, Hiddleston.”

He smirked, bouncing the little white ball on the table top and hitting it lightly down the centre mark towards me. Easily I returned his serve with a forehand hit, keeping it at a leisurely pace. We lobbied back and forth, maintaining a relaxed volley for a few returns.

Tom complimented smoothly, “You look sexy today, baby.”

“Nice try. You have the upper hand, babe. You’re good at  _everything_. I know I’m going to lose.” On par with my prediction, I missed returning this volley, landing the ball in the center of the net in the middle of the table. I growled and chucked the blasted, traitorous thing back at my boyfriend. “Can’t I forfeit?”

“Nope,” he said through a smile, knowing I couldn’t completely refrain from trying to get the upper hand with him. We exchanged another few rounds with me losing every point. I didn’t show my frustration again, coping with my utter defeat internally. “Shall we make this interesting, my love?”

“Am I boring you with my inadequacies at table tennis?”

“Hardly. You’ve got a lovely, lively blush glowing on your cheeks and you know my penchant for making you pink.” He placed his paddle on the table top and placed his palms down on either side, angling over the green surface. “There’s something positively indecent about how you are gripping that racquet, Abby.”

Examining the paddle and my hand around the handle, I smiled, picking up on his insinuation. “Is my competition stiff?” I stole a glance at his crotch hidden behind snug fuck me black jeans and a perfect black leather belt. I bit my lower lip, quelling the raw desire to relieve him of those trousers.

Tom, the observant, always sex ready lover, moistened his lips, hiking his voice low with suggestion, and said, “He can be, if you accept my proposition.”

“Call it, Hiddleston.”

With a mischievous, lascivious smirk and his confidence well on display, he intimated, “Strip table tennis.”

“In the face of my demise, that sounds far more beneficial for you than it does for me.”

“I’ll make it worth your sacrifice, baby. The ball’s in your court,” he punned easily.

With a slight nod of acknowledgement, I agreed, “Kick serve.”

Following along the recent history, I lost the first point, no longer worried about the possibility of losing. Tom advanced on me, kissing me full on, his tongue insistently dipping into my mouth to taste mine. Taking ‘my’ his t-shirt that I was wearing, he lifted the garment up and over my head as we separated again. Before going back to his side of the table, he weighed the globes of flesh on my chest tenderly beneath the lace of my bra.

The next point, I won, dead sure Tom sabotaged for the reward of my unbuckling his belt and throwing it aside. My hand caressed over his burgeoning erection behind the black denim, loving his response to me.

I failed on the next point, Tom eagerly peeling my jeans from my legs. Kneeling before me, he helped me step out of the confines of the material. He nuzzled against my abdomen, robbing me of thought and breath. His hands gripped my hips steadily as his tongue snaked out to taste the skin of my belly button. My knees wobbled under me, my balance losing to the sensual assault at the responsibility of my boyfriend.

I didn’t stop him when he hooked his fingers into the cotton of my knickers and peeled those too from my body. I’d lost all thought to complain at his skipping ahead. His teeth nipped my skin, covering me in mad desire and aroused gooseflesh. My fingers threaded into his hair, gasping his name or sounds of stimulation with every scrape of teeth along my flesh.

When I was free of my knickers, Tom placed a worshiping, sweet lingering kiss at the apex of my legs. A rush of moisture flooded my sex, heavy need sitting in that spot, the ache insistent and unrelenting. Before I knew it, my lover had me jammed up against the wall with his lithe body hungrily pressed to mine. His mouth fused with mine, our tongues twisting and tangling together. I moaned long and low, clutching his middle with my thighs. My hands snuck between our bodies to unbutton and unzip his jeans, the urgency for his length to relieve the ache in my sex.

The flirting and the innuendos and the teasing made us starved for one another, ravenous for pleasure. With a fast, rough thrust, his cock filled me, stretching my walls impossibly around him. I mewled loudly as Tom grunted, not unlike those of tennis players. He undulated his center to mine, advancing us on climax quickly. “Abigail,” he groaned against my throat, my pores very sensitive and heightened to him in every way. “Fuck… yes… you… feel… fuck-ing a-maz-ing – tight – your – bod- y… fuck!” Each syllable peppered with a flex and a jolt of his length deep into me.

His pelvic bone was at just the right angle to pressing into my clit, bursts of pleasure spiking with each stroke into me. “Tom – Tom – Tom… I’m… fuck… I’m- oh- God! – I’m – com-ing – make – me – come!” I closed my eyes, my head thrown back against the wall, sensation invading every inch of my body. “Tom!” My fingers yanked at his hair, chaos erupting from my sex. Sweet disarray swept through me, my entire being coming undone with my orgasm. I gasped loudly, my inner walls clamping mercifully around my lover.

He bit down on my shoulder roughly as my orgasm ripped his from him. I could feel his cock twitching within my contracting center. We comforted and worked each other through our climaxes, until we returned to the other. Sweet, slow, loving kisses landed us back in the present in our desperate embrace.

Tom was in no rush to separate or untangle from me, nor me from him. He kept me smashed into the wall, his length still tucked in my body.

With a slight chuckle, he murmured, “Victory!”

“I’m a lucky loser, my beautiful man.” I caressed his face gently and combed my fingers through his hair.

“We’re both winners, my love.”


End file.
